


Thirty-Eight Weeks

by ElizabethJaneway1158



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Missing Scene, Season 8, With a bit of Uncertainty, pregnancy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 19:51:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16204490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizabethJaneway1158/pseuds/ElizabethJaneway1158
Summary: Post-Alone/Pre-EssenceMulder's out of the FBI and Scully is on leave. Just a glimpse of what we missed. Some angst. Some fluff. A little something for everyone. Maybe. Rated M for a few curse words.





	Thirty-Eight Weeks

This is the last time she’s leaving the house until this baby is born. Possibly longer. Until today, Scully had firmly believed that pregnancy hadn’t changed her one bit. Then she’d had to spend the whole damn day shopping for last minute nursery items. She’d struggles for two and a half hours trying to pick up the stroller she ordered a month ago, only to be told that the wrong item had been shipped. Too far gone to care, she simply left her second choice stroller and her other items with customer service to be delivered. 

 

The endless litany of ‘usual suspects’ grows with each week: swollen ankles, the vice-grip tightening around her lumbar, cramping legs, ridiculous cravings brought on by indigestion-inducing mall cuisine. Not to mention the hot flashes, cold sweats, unsolicited weeping spells, and constant urge to run to the restroom. Dana Scully is fed up. 

 

She is tired, hormonal, and more than ready for this hellish day to be over. Ready to be at home. Ready to be in bed. Ready to have a quiet moment all to herself. 

 

Will she make it through a shower?  _ Oh, it would feel amazing.  _ What about something to eat? Yes. She should eat. Again. For the eighteenth time today. This penchant for grazing at all hours had damn well better be over soon. If she gains one more ounce, she’s going to simply drop to the floor.

 

The effort required to unlock her own door feels like a monumental exertion, she just barely makes it inside, her purse like a lead weight on her sore shoulder. The clatter of dishes in her sink alerts her that the hope for solitude was wishful thinking. 

 

“Mom, you don’t need to do my dishes.” She tosses the keys into the bowl by the door. Hanging her coat on the hall tree, she steps further into the kitchen. “Seriously, there’s no need t—Oh,  _ Mulder?” _

 

“Well, hello to you too, Scully,” he chuckles. 

 

“I—uh, hello. What are—“

 

“Honestly. No need to control your enthusiasm.” Mulder turns her, drying his hands with a tea towel. He patiently waits for her to dislodge her fingers from the bridge of her nose. 

 

“I did the dishes, Scully. See?” She sighs in exasperation; eyebrow cocked, she stares at the empty sink. 

 

“Wonderful. I’ll start the parade.”

 

“Hey, you okay?” He’s approaching, cautiously. Her disposition seemingly a bit less than ‘sunny’ today. She looks exhausted, but he doesn’t dare mention the fact. 

 

“Mulder, I’m fine. I just want to have a night alone. Did—“ Her stomach grumbles with embarrassing volume. 

 

“Guess that answers the ‘have you eaten yet’ I was getting ready to ask.” He tosses the towel on the counter and Scully picks it up to fold it over the oven door. 

 

“Think I saw some peanut butter crackers around here somewhere.” He roots around in her pantry and then moves to her no-longer-hidden snack cupboard. 

 

“You really have been busy, haven’t you? You’ve already found the sn—” She glances across the room to see her cabinet practically bare. “Seriously, Mulder? Even th—The popcorn too? Where the hell did all of my food go?” She groans, massaging away the twinge from a well-placed kick. He fiddles with one of the last packages of crackers, head bowed in shame. 

 

“Well, you were gone most of the day...I, uhm—sorry, Scully. I can—“ 

 

She holds out her hand up to hush him, turning her hand over at his silence to receive the crackers. He’s back, closer to her than before. Handing over the crackers, he leans against the counter, hip brushing her hand braced there for support. He’s beginning to revert back to his usual ‘no personal boundaries’ routine as of late. Now that she’s pregnant, his hovering increases exponentially as her due date draws near. 

 

Scully chews for a bit, mulling over her missing snacks and how to deal with the man who ate them all. Things were still a bit strained between them. So many things up in the air, uncertainties she’s not sure either of them are ready to deal with. Slowly, it’s getting better. Returning to normal just before their lives are turned completely upside down. Will he want to stay after the baby is born? He mentioned moving in for the first few weeks. Has said he wants to be involved; he just hasn’t specified to what degree.  

 

“Want me to order pizza?” 

 

“Yeah. Sure. Wha—” Scully sucks in a breath and presses her knuckles deep into her back. “That sounds like a good plan.” She waves off his concerned look. “It’s been a really long day. Thank you for the help. I actually thought about calling you before I went out.”

 

“Really? You could have. Over at your mom’s today?” He’s placing his hands her shoulders, tentative, kneading lightly when she doesn’t protest. Pressing his thumbs just where he knows the knots will be. 

 

“Mm. No. Shopping.” He turns her in his hold, attempting to steer her out of the kitchen with him, but she turns toward the refrigerator.  _ Oh, shit.  _

 

“Shopping? All day? Scully,” he admonishes. “You’re on leave. You’re supposed to rest when you’re on leave. Me? I’m just unemployed. You’re supposed to...annoy others when you’re unemployed.” Mulder can’t keep Scully from the fridge and freezer.  _ Damn.  _ If she opens the latter, he’ll be in the dog house for sure. Listening to the crunch of crackers, he thinks of a way to divert her.

 

“You? Annoy others? Never.” He laughs and agrees; watching her sift through her produce drawer. “I should have asked you to come along, Mulder. With the money I spent, hopefully they don’t screw up the delivery. It might not have been such a disaster if you’d been there.” She smiles softly, imagining Mulder among bassinets and strollers.

 

“I am the master of disaster. Things were bad enough you think sending me in would’ve helped, huh?” He’s unsuccessful with his distraction. Shoving the final cracker into her mouth, she moves to open the freezer door. 

 

“At least you would’ve made things entertaining.” The last words are distorted by a large yawn. 

 

“C’mon, Scully. Time to put those little feet up.” 

 

“Hey. I had a--”

 

“How ‘bout that pizza, Scully? I should get on that.” He sneaks out from behind her.

 

“Mulder.” She’s pissed. “You didn’t.” 

 

“Just going to find that menu. You have the number over there by the phone?”

 

“Mul-der-rr…,” she whines, forehead leaning on the freezer door.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“My Cherry Garcia?”

 

“Yep.” He scratches his head, eyes finally landing on the menu for the pizza place. “Sorry.”

 

Cool blue eyes pin him with a withering glare and he’s frozen, flinching slightly with the firm closure of the door. 

 

“My ice cream. That was  _ my _ ice cream.” She pouts and maneuvers around him.  

 

“Scully, I—“

 

“It’s fine.” 

 

“Ouch. Using the ‘f-word’ now.” 

 

“Really, Mulder. It’s okay. There’s storebrand Rocky Road in there. Or at least, there was when I left this afternoon.” He scrunches his face at her remark and she snorts softly. 

 

Electing to ignore her rolling eyes, Mulder follows her around to the front of the couch. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that if you do that enough, one day your face will get stuck that way?” He leans over her shoulder playfully. 

 

“With you here, it could very well pass as a normal expression,” she deadpans with a smirk. Tossing around the pillows on the couch, Scully prepares to settle in for a while. 

 

“Mulder, could you grab th—Oh, thanks.” She grumbles and lowers herself slowly as Mulder places her pillow at the small of her back. The empty cellophane mocks her appetite, makes her hungry for more than just peanut butter and Ritz. It irritates her greatly that she used to consider this a meal. Now? She could kill a whole box in one sitting. 

 

“You want the Hawaiian with peppers and mushrooms again?”

 

“Yep. And a glass of milk while you’re up.”

 

“Will do.” While Mulder orders the pizza from the kitchen, she lets her eyes close. She’s content to enjoy the familiarity of the moment. Elated that his aloofness has fallen away, Scully finds herself remembering simpler times, with expense reports, take out boxes, bottles of beer. And those few times they found themselves necking on the couch before stumbling to the bedroom.

 

“I may have to sit outside while you eat this pie, Scully. Wasn’t sure I was going to make it through that last time.” 

 

“Well, you’re more than welcome to eat your jalapeno infested monstrosity anywhere you’d like.” 

 

“‘Monstrosity’ now, is it? Last time it was merely a ‘horror’.” He chuckles at her over the proffered glass of two percent. 

“Oh, I sent Frohike a message. He’s got some files for me. I told him to drop them by here with a couple of pints of Ben and Jerry’s.” He settles in his usual spot next to her, patting his lap for her to place her feet in.

 

“Hm,” Scully dabs at the corner of her mouth, catching a bit of milk that escaped. “Sending in the Gunman to do your dirty work?” She holds out her glass and he puts it on the coffee table for her.

 

“Yeah, why not?” He tosses her shoes on the floor, pulling off her socks and bringing the blood back to the soles of her feet.

 

“Hope he knows which flav--“ A strong cramp grasps at the tight muscles of her low back. It forces a groan from her throat as she struggles greatly to get her feet back to the floor; eyes screwed shut, she paces herself with a few practiced breaths. 

 

She pries one eye open to see him watching, expression quickly betraying his attempt at seeming calm. Scully stares back at him, leaning to one side, frozen there in hopes that the spasm will relent. 

 

“Did I press too hard?” His hands are still for a few moments before he starts running them over her ankles and calves. He’s unsure of what she needs, but sure that she’ll tell him if she needs to.

 

“S’okay, Mulder. My back is-- _ Ah, damnit _ .“

 

“Do you need another pillow or is it something else?” The anxiety rolls off of him in waves. Her most recent hospital stay still fresh in both of their minds. His worry catches in her throat and warms her heart. 

 

“Pillow.” He offers her another pillow and he resumes his work on her foot, touching her so lightly, she wouldn’t have known if she hadn’t been watching. 

 

“It’s not serious, Mulder. I promise.” He nods, waiting for her posture to relax. Once she settles back into the cushions, Mulder grasps her heel with the firm pressure he normally uses.

 

“Better?” He watches her intently. 

 

“Better. For now.” Scully’s eyes roll back into her head when he starts to press up toward the ball of her foot.

 

“Good?”

 

“You have no idea,” she purrs. 

 

“That tone of voice? I think I may have somewhat of an idea.” He guffaws when she pokes him in the side with her free foot. ‘Watch it’, her arched eyebrow warns. 

 

He switches feet, smiling to himself. Scully has just begun to doze when Mulder speaks again. 

 

“You wanna watch som--Oh, sorry.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“No, you go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when pizza’s here.”

 

“Mmkay.” 

  
  


_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

 

Scully gives up her fight for consciousness, too uncomfortable on the couch and in her clothes to stay up and wait for ‘Little Caesar’. 

 

Fifteen minutes before the doorbell rings, she waddles her way back to the bedroom. Ready to crawl in bed and ‘stay there for the next three days’. 

 

This new side to Scully amuses him. Still full of piss and vinegar, yet not enough energy to stay awake past nine or after digesting carbs. 

 

Mulder snags a slice before putting both of the pizzas in the fridge, just in time for Frohike to drop off the files and ice cream. They chat for a few minutes before Mulder excuses himself; once he’s shut off the television and lights, he plans to check on Scully and leave for the evening.

 

Hums, snuffles, and light snores fill the room; her endless supply of sleep sounds one of his favorite experiences. Yet, in his absence, she’s added groans of pain and discomfort, accompanying the shuffling and shifting of her restless body. 

 

“You didn’t use the pillows, Scully,” he whispers quietly as he approaches the bed.  

 

“Mm. M’uller?”

 

“Shh. Go back to sleep.”

 

He’s gathering her pillows, preparing to build a fort around her belly. God, so many damn pillows. 

 

“Alright, kid. Time to let your mom get some shut eye.” He settles the two pillows at her head, pulling them closer to her shoulder to support her neck. 

 

“Arm up.” She grumbles when he wedges two pillows in a ‘V’ under her armpit. Fluffing them to support her back and chest. 

 

“Bend this little leg.” She’s pliant in his grasp. He gingerly tucks the remaining two between her legs, straightening the one laying on the bed and bending the one he drapes over the pillows. Nodding at his own success, he takes note that Scully, finally, is stationary. 

 

“Night, Scully.”

 

“Y’going?”

 

“Yeah. Pizza’s in the fridge. I’ll be back tomorrow.” He hears her mumble something into the bedding.

 

“What?”

 

“Stay?” The request gives him pause; his pulse jumps instantly. 

 

“Uh, yeah. I can. Let me just get a blanket f—“ 

 

“Here. In the bed.” Her tone hovers somewhere between a question and a statement. Effectively placing the ball in his court. 

 

“I can—Yeah, Scully. I can do that.” 

 

Perched precariously on the edge of the bed, he watches her still form for a moment or two before kicking off his shoes and removing his sweater. Down to his boxers and undershirt, he pulls the remaining pillow to the head of the bed, settling in under the blankets behind her. 

 

“Enough room?”

 

“Yeah, you?”

 

“Mm. You tucked the pillows around me.”

 

“Yep.” He slides his arms under his head with a sigh.

 

She asked him to stay. In the bed. Which, isn’t anything new. Before he left for Oregon, they’d practically lived together. Hopping from one apartment every other week. 

 

He wants it to be simple and easy, but the gaping distance his disappearance put between them has just only recently begun to close. And all too soon there will be a third person thrown into the mix. 

 

“Thank you.” Her sleepy voice sounds more relaxed than it’s been in weeks. 

 

“Any time.” A pang of guilt simmers in his gut. This is all she needed to settle her; he’s not sure that he could’ve been a comfort to her before tonight. 

 

He scoots closer, turning to spoon her back around the pillows. Making his intentions known, Mulder tucks his nose behind her ear. Scully sinks into him fully; finally feeling the weight of him behind her, she can let go of the tension that has made a home around her heart. 

 

“Mulder?” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Would you think about staying every night? I could go into—“

 

“Yes. I’ve, uh, been meaning to—wanting to ask.”

 

She stiffens for a brief moment, before pulling him closer. Clinging to his arm. He kisses her hair and listens to her hum contentedly. 

 

They’re silent, enjoying the slow return of their equilibrium. He can feel the thinking, knowing her mind will be running ragged unless he takes the burden for a little while. 

 

“I will be here as long as you need me. Whenever and wherever. Okay?” She nods, bringing his hand to her mouth for a brush of her lips. 

 

“Mulder, you d—“

 

“I want to. I do. No more questions about it. You’re stuck with me, Scully.” 

 

“Okay,” her voice wavers ever so slightly, hot and wet against the back of his hand. 

 

“Okay.” Mulder parrots gently in her ear, more kisses are necessary. He decides they belong on her cheek and temple. 

 

“Think you can go back to sleep?” He’s brushing the hair back from her forehead. 

 

“Mmhm.” She’s already halfway there. 

 

“Good.” Mulder runs his hand over her arm and belly; he’s not tired, hardly ever is at night. Short naps during the day make the nightmares manageable. He’s content to hold her close until her breathing lulls him into a light doze. 

 

“Night, Scully.” Her hand blindly searches for his and he takes it, running his thumb over the soft skin of her knuckles. Subconsciously or otherwise, she pulls his hand with hers back to rest low on her hard belly. It is foreign and intriguing all at once. He hones his senses, focusing intently on the warmth radiating from her. 

 

Turning to stare at the ceiling, he waits until he’s certain she’s fast asleep. Still hesitant and confused about all of this—the whole ‘having a baby’ this—Mulder finds the privacy of this time to share with his unborn child. He feels his brain attempting to fully grasp that soon he will be a father. Sluggishly processing images of crying infants, bottles, diapers, the whole nine yards. ‘Spooky Mulder’,  _ a father.  _

 

Probing delicately, he flattens his hand against the solid mass, resting just above her pubis; he meets the round mass of the baby’s head. He moves, only minutely, always returning to cradle his favorite place.

 

“At thirty-eight weeks, the book says you’re fully grown. Approximately the length of a leek,” Mulder murmurs to no one in particular. He presses a bit harder than intending to. This earns Scully a strong nudge to the rib and she groans. 

 

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he rubs at the active area. “Go back to sleep,” Mulder hushes. 

 

He moves to pull his hand away and she traps it there, linking her fingers with his. He lets his eyes close, focusing on the subtle movements dancing under his palm. Thinking of the possibilities yet to come. 


End file.
